


Oh, Whistle and I'll Come into You, My Lad

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [230]
Category: JAMES M. R. - Works, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:13:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5100686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our lads are inspired by an M.R. James story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, Whistle and I'll Come into You, My Lad

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Emila-Wan and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting to the Master Apprentice ML  
> Travis for posting to the Master Apprentice Archive on AO3  
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia 
> 
> Halloween Arcadias:  
> 2003 -- [Masquerade](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1416970)  
> 2004 -- [Hallowe'en Kata](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1798078)  
> 2005 -- [Happy Tatooween](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4494276)  
> 2006 -- [Happy Tatooween, Take Two: Undercovers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4494279)  
> 2007 -- [A Jedi Halloween](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4140561)  
> 2008 -- [Jedi Trick or Treat](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4209189)  
> 2009 -- [Return of the Jedi Halloween](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4276158)  
> 2010 -- [A Little Halloween Diplomacy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4359473)  
> 2011 -- [Hallowed Light](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4388372)  
> 2012 -- [Halloween on the Go](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4397036)  
> 2013 -- [A Neighborly Halloween](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4397105)  
> 2013 -- [Halloween Treats for Grown-ups](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4397111)  
> 2014 -- [Groomed for Halloween](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2573033)
> 
> References:  
> [Hallowed Light](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4388372)  
> [Oh, whistle and I'll come to you, my lad](https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Ghost_Stories_of_an_Antiquary/%27Oh,_Whistle,_and_I%27ll_Come_to_You_My_Lad%27)  
> [The Nightrunner Series - Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Nightrunner_Series)
> 
> To Inya 
> 
> Warning: Please do not read this if you don't like scary stories.

Amazing how words could transport you to another time and place.

Ian and Quinn were keenly aware of this mind trick and used it to their advantage. Their Halloween tradition of telling ghost stories in the Roxburgh Classical Library had delighted their students for years. They had started this tradition in 2011, when they'd chosen an M.R. James classic, "Casting the Runes," for their inaugural 'Ghosts in the Library' presentation. It had been such a success that they were inspired to make it a yearly event.

This time, they had picked another of their favorite stories by James: "Oh, Whistle and I'll Come to You, My Lad," in which a skeptical professor triggers a series of supernatural disturbances but explains them away until he's literally spooked himself. A perfect story to celebrate the holiday.

Ian, in particular, got a kick out of the title, as well. He could whistle with the best of them, and he knew that Quinn would always come to his lad.

Since October 31st fell on a Saturday this year, the vibe was even more relaxed than usual. The professors had gone trick-or-treating with Lelia and Han in the late afternoon, joined their neighbors at the block party hosted by Violet and Prudence, then taken off their Jedi linens and robes to put on their academic uniforms of corduroy jackets with suede patches and slacks, in a dusky autumn palette.

So here it was, 8 o'clock on a blustery fall evening, and the professors were about to transport their students back to the start of the 20th century in an English seaside village. A single candle glimmered in the center of the library, where Quinn and Ian sat on the carpet, surrounded by a ring of undergraduates, who were enthralled by every word.

Ian took the lead, playing Parkins, a young professor of Ontography at Cambridge, who was an unlikely candidate for an adventure, just like Bilbo Baggins. Parkins was going on an end-of-term holiday to Burnstow, where the only room he could get at the Globe Inn had two beds in it, which Ian said with particular emphasis. Ian could see a girl shivering in front of him, and he gave her a crooked grin Seregil would have been proud of.

Delighted by the spooky atmosphere he'd created in mere moments, Ian continued on with the story. Apparently, during Parkins' stay at the inn, he meant to improve his golf game and promised an antiquarian colleague to have a look at a Templar preceptory (chapter house) in the area. Of course, Quinn couldn't resist giving his lad a wink when Ian mentioned the Knights Templar, and, much to his credit, Ian winked back without missing a beat in his performance. The audience didn't realize that the professors were just out of their Jedi linens, but Ian and Quinn could still feel the coarsecloth ghosting over their skin.

Ian described Parkins' vacation, complete with golfing and the professor's visit to the preceptory in the gusty dusk of an autumn day, so similar to this one at Luke. Ian's voice lowered as he revealed that Parkins found a metal whistle hidden amidst the ruins of the site. With that discovery, the mood of the story darkened, with our hero feeling as if he were followed on the way home.

When Parkins was back in his room, he blew the whistle twice. Could it be a summons, and if so, what would it bring?

Suddenly someone sneezed.

Everyone in the audience seemed to jump five feet. Then the room exploded into laughter, releasing the tension that had been steadily building.

Finally, Ian was able to continue the tale, with the room as silent as a Benedictine monastery once more.

Parkins had a hard time sleeping that night, it goes without saying. He heard tossing and turning in what he thought was the room next door. But Ian gazed at the students as he said this, and he could tell that they had guessed the truth.

Luckily, Parkins found a staunch ally in the form of Colonel Wilson, his golfing companion, a gruff, no-nonsense older man, who seemed to know everything Parkins was going through and why. Thank the Force that Wilson was occupying in the room just above his new friend's. Location, location, location. Needless to say, Quinn was born to play this part.

What Parkins was inclined to dismiss as "superstition," Wilson believed to be a folk truth. Guess who was right? Wilson must have been strong in the Living Force, in order to understand these uncanny events. The key word M.R. James used was "experience"; the older man had seen it all in his military campaigns and adventures, just as Qui-Gon had in a galaxy far, far away.

Wilson gave his friend good advice -- to throw the whistle in the nearby sea -- but an unconvinced Parkins didn't listen. When he woke up in the middle of the night, Parkins was horrified to see a figure sitting up in the supposedly empty bed across from him. He was literally left hanging out of the window in a desperate effort to escape from a ghost that used the crumpled bed-linens to give itself form.

Fortunately, Wilson came to his friend's rescue as soon as he heard his cries for help; the audience could imagine the Colonel staying up all night, just waiting to spring into action. The ghost had presumably leapt out the window by the time Wilson reached the unconscious Parkins.

A breathless silence overcame the students. Ian and Quinn were silent, as well. Then, Quinn quietly resumed the tale. Wilson put Parkins to bed, and grimly stayed in the other bed for the rest of the night. The next day, Wilson finally got his way and threw the whistle into the sea, and they burned the bedclothes of the extra bed.

As Seregil would say, learn and live. Fortuitously, Parkins had done both, with the help of his friend.

When their hosts had completed the tale, it seemed as if the audience let out a massive exhale of relief. Clapping felt inappropriate, so the students thanked their professors in hushed tones as they left the library. In return, Ian and Quinn wished everyone a happy Halloween, blew out the candle and put it on the circulation desk, then found their way out by the light of the moon and locked the door behind them.

They headed out into the windy Halloween night, cozying into their coats and each other. There was no need to stop by their office; they already had the books and papers they needed to prepare for their Monday lectures at home. So they walked straight to the parking lot behind Taton Hall, and Ian drove them to Alder Run.

The puppies were ecstatic that Quinn and Ian were back; even though Mrs. Chang had stayed with the pups while the men went out trick-or-treating with the children, it wasn't the same for Artoo and Sandy as having their dads pet them. They all got down on the carpet and snuggled together. Then Quinn headed to the kitchen to feed the puppies and turn on their C-3PO night light, while Ian put on thick cotton socks, along with his flannel pajamas, and took out Quinn's, as well.

By the time Ian came out of the bathroom, teeth brushed and clean as a whistle, Quinn was already lying on the bed under the green and blue tartan comforter in his pajamas. He pulled back the covers for Ian with a come-hither smile, then welcomed his lad into the warmth of his arms.

"Ah, laddie, 'twas a wonderful performance tonight," Quinn said. "I had no idea I married an actor," he teased.

"Oh, Quinn, you were great yourself. There's something about James' stories that suits us down to our toes." Ian cuddled closer, surrounded by flannel rubbing flannel, as their pajamas pressed into each other and into the sheets.

Quinn kissed a soft spike of copper hair on Ian's forehead. "I think it's because James himself was a professor whose closest friendships were all with men."

"He might be like us today, given the freedom to love anyone he chose," Ian said somberly, aware of just how lucky they were to be born at the right time and place.

Quinn thought that the little frown on his husband's face wouldn't do; he bent further to kiss those downturned lips, smiling when he felt them slide into a grin under his own.

And Ian's grin became dazzling when he thought of a new way to tease Quinn, courtesy of James. He whistled, a low melodious note, and was gratified to see the dawning comprehension in his herven's eyes.

"Oh, whistle and I'll come to you, my lad," Quinn whispered.

"I'd prefer 'come in you', actually," Ian breathed.

Quinn gasped as he pushed Ian flat on his back, so he could hover over him, kissing and petting him on top of his pajamas. Ever considerate, Quinn wanted to keep his lad warm during their lovemaking. He knew they'd be generating more heat soon, but it wouldn't be enough to overcome the coolness of their bedroom.

Ian obviously had the same idea; he didn't take Quinn's pajamas off but caressed him over them. The flannel, pressing closer into skin, made Ian's touches doubly warm to a blissed-out Quinn. Ian's hand stroked up a long arm, feeling hard muscle even through cotton.

Quinn ran gentle fingertips along Ian's cheekbone as he pressed his erection into his husband's thigh, relishing Ian's groan. "For you, laddie mine," he said, repeating his thrust for emphasis.

Ian pulled him down for a kiss and ended up with 200 pounds of excited Quinn on top of him. Nothing he wasn't used to. Their cocks rubbed together through flannel, beoming impossibly harder, even as their combined pre-come made it easier to slide into each other.

"Please...oh...please!" Ian gasped out in pure desperation.

Quinn spared a second to be thankful that he'd forgotten to replace their berry lube in his night-stand drawer this morning; it was still underneath his pillow, because they'd wanted to make love before work but never got the chance since they were running late.

Quinn forced himself to stop pushing into Ian and made a blind attempt to burrow under the pillow with his hand to find the tube. He scrabbled around but couldn't reach it until a button popped off of his pajama shirt and his fingertips touched the cap. Relieved, he crooned, "Got it" to his lad, who was wriggling beneath him.

He disentangled from Ian long enough to push down both of their pajama bottoms, made more challenging by their durasteel erections in the way. Now, Ian's wriggling actually helped him; the flannel just slid off of his laddie.

Making up for lost time, Quinn quickly coated his fingers with the gel and first slicked himself, then Ian. He pushed Ian's legs apart and back to give him the best angle to enter him. He didn't forget their tradition and kissed his husband on the bridge of his nose before starting their dance.

Ian forced himself to stillness, so Quinn could slide in more easily. He grunted when Quinn penetrated him, trying to relax, the better to take his massive length. There, on the fourth thrust, Quinn slid completely home, feeling Ian's sweat-slick balls ready to greet him. Just in time, too, because shudders were wracking them both now.

Quinn concentrated on hitting Ian's prostate with every thrust; he could hear his success with each of his lad's cries, increasingly incoherent and guttural. His own groans blended in, their own private song with endless variations. He rubbed up and down Ian's upper arms and noticed that his husband's hands were clenching in time with his thrusting.

Green-blue adoration shone in Ian's eyes: all of that love, all for Quinn. He was barely holding off his orgasm, trying his best to hang on in order to give Quinn more pleasure. Each strand of hair went its own iconoclastic way; his chest and stomach were decorated with a heady mixture of sweat and pre-come; his legs were almost cramping with strain. Nirvana.

Quinn could read the imminent orgasm in Ian's eyes; he closed his own to try not to give into the lure of coming inside his laddie right this second. He got in a few more thrusts, deep and powerful, with Ian snapping his hips up to meet every one.

Finally, Ian knew he couldn't hold out any longer; he made a frantic lunge for Quinn's mouth and kissed him, just as the first spurts were starting between them. Closely linked as they always were, that triggered Quinn's orgasm, and they came convulsively, riding out the bursts of pleasure together.

When the last pulses had subsided, Quinn rolled off of Ian before his weight could make him uncomfortable. Their breathing gradually calmed, and Quinn reached for a handful of tissues on the night stand to clean them both up.

Then Ian pulled the covers up for the night. "Now that was a happy Halloween," he said with satisfaction.

"That it was, my love," said Quinn as he settled in to sleep.

"Who would have thought a ghost story could be such an inspiration?" Ian asked with a yawn.

"Only you, my lad, only you." Quinn was asleep in seconds


End file.
